"
Lucy looked upon him with a feeling of admiration which could not be
misunderstood. "Dear Charles," she exclaimed; "ever honorable--ever
generous--ever considerate and unselfish; I do not of course understand
your allusions; but I am confident that whatever you do will be done in
a spirit worthy of yourself."
The look of admiration, and why should we not add love, which Lucy had
bestowed upon him was observed and felt deeply. Their eyes met, and,
seizing her hand again, he whispered, in that low and tender voice which
breathes the softest and most contagious emotion of the heart, "Alas,
Lucy, you could not even dream how inexpressibly dear you are to me.
Without you, life to me will possess no blessing. All that I ever
conceived of its purest and most exalted enjoyments were centred in you,
and in that sweet communion which I thought we were destined to hold
together; but now, now--oh, my God, what a blank will my whole future
existence be without you!"
"Charles--Charles," she replied, but at the same time her eyes were
swimming in tears, "spare me this; do not overload my heart with such an
excess of sorrow; have compassion on me, for I am already too sensible
of my own misery--too sensible of the happiness I have lost.
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